Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction, a fantasy actually. It is not based on any real persons, living or dead. It does contain graphic descriptions of sexual activity. In most countries of the world you must be 18 years old to read it, so stop now if you are not 18 years old. And if you are offended by vivid descriptions of sexual activity between boys and men, do not continue reading.
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Richard Darby Stories.
A 3 part story by Richard Darby.
Little Willie Stevenson - Part 2 of 3.
It was just after second lesson had finished that I slipped in to see nurse. I asked her if Stevenson had been in to see her. She replied in the affirmative and informed me that she'd massaged Little Willie's hamstring. Then she added, "It's very minor. Just a twinge. He should be up and running in a couple of days providing he doesn't do anything strenuous in the meantime." Then she asked, "Are you running a mixed nines and tens game on Saturday morning?"
I nodded. "Yes. Should I leave him out of the game?"
She thought for a moment and then, hesitantly, said, "It's Tuesday now. He should be fine by then, but keep a close eye on him during the game. I know what that little man is like. He loves his rugby so much that he'll try to hide it if he gets a twinge. Maybe half a game for him?"
Again I nodded. "Will do. Any more malingerers I should know about?"
She giggled. "Branson came in and said he'd got a bad back. I doubt you'll be able to pick him for any sports this week."
I chuckled, waved a casual hand, and left the room.
So, Little Willie had been clever. Covering his back he was. He'd been to see nurse as I suggested, so now his `injury' was confirmed, it gave him licence to visit me again that night. And he knew I would visit nurse to confirm it. I told you he was a clever little bugger!
I saw him a few times that day. A couple of times I saw him when he didn't know I could see him, and he was walking or running normally, but when he knew I could see him, he adopted a slight limp. And rather than that grin from him, he gave me open smiles. The boy was good. Very good! Uncle Cornelious... or whoever would have stood no chance when Little Willie was on sexual manoeuvres.
That night, at eleven o'clock exactly, there was a gentle knock on the door. I opened it and Little Willie had a pretend look on his face that said `sorry I've disturbed you', but when I crooked my finger at him, that grin appeared as he walked past me holding the hot water bottle.
I'd prepared for him coming this time. A Paracetamol and a glass of water were on the side table by my armchair and I'd already boiled the kettle, so when I took the hot water bottle from him and pointed at the chair, I went and filled it, got the bag of peas from the freezer, and went back to the boy. He was sitting back in the chair, totally relaxed and looking around the place when I got to him. Also, because he was part sprawled on the chair, his bum was on the edge and I could see his little dick tenting in his PJ's. I almost started laughing at the precociousness of the little monkey. Had I been so minded, I'm pretty sure that had I knelt in front of him and kissed that tented dick, he wouldn't have objected. But I was enjoying the game Little Willie was playing. Yes, I was horned up to high heaven and would have loved to have stripped him naked and had sex with him, but I've always enjoyed the thrill of the chase. And Little Willie was an expert at laying a scent that, whenever he decided it was time, he knew would lead me into those lovely PJ's. As a matter of fact, because he knew I could see his little dickie stretching his PJ's, I knew he was testing me to see if I would succumb to temptation. But Little Willie was dealing with a Master of Boys; a genuine all-singing, all-dancing boylover who had been in this situation a few times before, and I knew that, if or when something was going to happen, it would be Little Willie who would take us into temptation. So, instead of grabbing his dick, I gave him that grin and quietly asked him, "Did you go to see nurse?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yessir. She said I should be fine for Saturday's game. It's just a twinge now but I thought if you could give me the hot water bottle treatment and a massage again then that would make sure I am. You don't mind, do you Sir?"
I shook my head and jerked a thumb that told him to get out of my chair (which he did). "As long as you've not told anybody you've been here, I don't mind at all. You haven't, have you? "
"No Sir! Don't want to get expelled." He pointed at my door that led to the dormitory. "Everybody is asleep in there."
He took up position with his hands on my shoulders as I pressed the hot water bottle and frozen peas alternately against his right hamstrings. Again his head was right by the side of mine. I turned my head slightly so his blonde locks were against my face and nuzzled my nose into the softness of him. Boy smell. I breathed deeply, in and out through my nose; savouring the wonder of him. My breathing was slightly disturbing strands of his hair and blowing on his small ear. I knew boys inside out and I was aware it would be disturbing things other than his hair. A little boy's ears can be very erotic zones. I changed tack and began to breathe through my mouth, and now that it was my hot breath that was cascading over his ear, I felt his head press more firmly onto his hand that was on my shoulder and I heard his breathing change because it was exciting him. I wanted to hear his voice to see how it was affecting him, so I whispered, "Are you sure they're all asleep? Wright and Fallon are usually the last to go to sleep."
He half chuckled when I said that. Then, hoarsely, he answered, "Yessir. I had to wait for those two to finish before I came."
I gave out a half chuckle when I teased him with, "Finish? What do you mean, Stevenson?"
A giggle from him then. "You know Sir. When they've finished."
"Naughty boy stuff?" I felt him nod on my shoulder and so I teased him some more when I asked, "Do you have a special friend, Stevenson?" I felt him shake his head. "None at all?" I prompted him.
He hesitated, and then quietly whispered, "Just one Sir. The hot water bottle is a bit too warm on my leg Sir. Can you massage it now?"
Clever boy! He'd slipped the net very cleverly there. I knew exactly who that special friend was, and I knew it was not a boy. Little Willie was not into boys his own age. I'd met a few like him before. Little boys don't interest the Little Willie Stevensons of this world. They want more than an ignorant, fumbling little boy to satiate their dark passions. They want someone who knows enough about little boys that it will leave them completely satisfied after they've been `served', and that `someone' is an adult who is willing and also desires those dark passions. Someone like Uncle Cornelious... or whoever, and right then I knew that that `someone' was me. But slowly slowly catchee Taffy Davies, and I was enjoying every second of this wonderful experience of being hunted down, so I removed the hot water bottle, placed it on the table beside me, picked up my half full glass of brandy, took a large sip of it, smiled at Little Willie, and said, "That will warm my hands up."
He was standing in front of me, still with his hands on my shoulders, giggling when I said that, and he asked, "Why would the drink make your hands warm Sir?"
I winked at him, and replied, "It relaxes me. No inhibitions. I shouldn't be massaging a little boy's bum in my room in the middle of the night, should I?"
He grinned. "No Sir. Why don't you have another drink? That will take all your worries away."
I pulled a silly face at him and pulled him to me and whispered in his ear, "Naughty boy! Bend over and lean on the arm of the chair. And tell me when you've had enough."
That grin! He took a step to my left and leaned over me, put his hands and head on the arm of the armchair, and I was left with a little boy lying across my lap. Because his PJ's were now stretched, all the contours of his perfect little bottom were now fully revealed. But I wanted to see more of him, and that's why, when I began to massage him with my right hand, I placed my left hand in the small of his back and pushed the top of his PJ's up his back slightly. The bottom of his PJ's had slipped down when he lay across me and the crack at the top of his gorgeous little bottom was clearly exposed. And I discovered something else when I began to massage him. The naughty Little Willie had omitted to put any underwear on before he donned his PJ's! Naughty boy! Wonderful, naughty boy!
I must admit that two of the most glorious parts of a boy to me are the nebulous orbs of a boy's bum. I love them; I adore them, and once I began to massage those parts of Little Willie, I did lose some of my self-restraint. I couldn't help it. He had come prepared – without underpants. That was his gift to me, or, to be more precise; the tempting hors d'oeuvre to whet my sexual appetite, and I was never one to refuse a mouth watering sweetmeat. So I set it to work, savouring the temptation.
A full ten minutes I gently massaged one of those joys of boy, making sure I disguised what I was doing by also massaging down the back of his right thigh at the same time. But that was immensely enjoyable too. My hand easily spanned his wonderful, beautiful, amorphous thigh, and on each upstroke I made sure my thumb teased his perineum, and I also applied so much pressure at the top of the upstroke that I knew I was prising his bum cheeks apart so far that I would be opening that jewel of the crown, his puckered anus, while I was doing it. But after ten minutes I thought, for the sake of propriety (damn propriety!) that I should speak, and I asked Little Willie, "Have you had enough yet?"
The cheeky little bugger! His lifted his right hand from the chair arm and pointed at my drink and said, "Not yet. Do you want another drink Sir?"
I gave him a sharp'ish tap to his bottom and replied, "Naughty boy! Are you trying to get me drunk?"
He giggled. "Less inhibitions Sir. I was enjoying that."
I leaned back in the chair, picked up the glass of brandy and sat sipping at it for a short while, and while I was doing it, the thumb of my free hand was `absent mindedly' stroking along the crevice at the top of his bum. And for those of you who don't know, the nerves at the bottom of the coccyx are very erotic zones. As a matter of fact, on Little Willie, they were so erotic that he reached his right hand behind him, slipped it inside his PJ's, and while I was tickling his coccyx, he was running his fingers along the length of his bum cheek, pretending to massage himself, but I knew he was stroking himself. Also, because he was doing that, his PJ's were stretched his buttocks were clearly visible. (Did the boy have no shame! LOL.) Of course, having seen him do that, I knew what to do next. So I did.
Glass back on the side table, I pulled Little Willie's hand out of his PJ's, and mine went in there instead. There were no objections when I gave him a naked, skin on skin massage, and it was not just to one buttock and one hamstring... I did both to make sure he would be fully fit for the game on Saturday. And also, now all pretence was gone, when Little Willie opened his legs wide to allow me access, I reached under him between his legs and also massaged his small balls and raging little boner. That little foreskin between a finger and thumb was powerless to my caresses, and in no time Little Willie's body and legs were twitching and he was emitting his boy `oomps' and `aaahs' as he reached his dry climax.
He stood before me, that grin on his face in victory, and when he asked the question, he already knew the answer when I told him to be very careful when he returned the following evening. But the cheeky little bugger had the last word when, holding my hot water bottle, he turned just before he went through the door and whispered with a big grin on his face, "Write me a note and I'll get you some more brandy from the village tomorrow Sir."
I winked at him and whispered back, "Bring me a keg of it. Now go... and be quiet!" Then, to add a bit more fun to the situation, I added, "Don't you want this Paracetamol?"
He giggled and shook his head and whispered, "Don't need it now Sir. I feel super."
More thoughts after I'd jerked off after Little Willie had gone. Yes, I'd taken the initiative and wanked him off, but Little Willie had been the one who opened his legs to give me access. He had invited me into his sexuality and I had accepted his invitation. He reminded me of John Imubako-Brailsford, who I had loved a few years ago.
John was a mixed race boy; the son of a beautiful black mother of American descent and a white father of British lineage. Like Little Willie, he was a clever boy and had come on to me. I had loved him truly for a while, but when he reached ten years of age is when we first made out. We'd been flirting for quite a while without consequences when we went on a mid-term, four-day camping trip to the south coast. That first night, when he was sure his peers were asleep, he slipped out of his tent and came to mine. He made the excuse that the cows in the field next to where we were camping were driving him crazy because they were near his tent and their chewing was keeping him awake. (That was the best excuse any boy has ever made to get in my bed!) So I allowed him into my tent and gave him some comfort to ease his `distress'. Two hours later and it was all over. He was ready, willing, and damned well able! I didn't fuck him that night, but we did everything else. He was like an uncaged animal after I'd made it clear that I desired what he did. He had a body to die for; slightly plumper and less firm than Little Willie's, but beautiful handfuls of boy buttocks. He also had a dick that was inherited from his mother's side of the family. It was thick and four inches long when fully aroused. But I already knew that. Most of the boys in his peer group were jealous of his big dick when he was in the showers. Some of them would have been immensely jealous when he slipped that beautiful appendage into my mouth and allowed me to suckle on it until he dry-orgasmed into the back of my throat.
But it was not a one-way thing with John. He was into man cock in a big way (some boys really are!), and in the darkness of the tent he slurped and licked and sucked my dick until I too climaxed into the back of his throat, and he devoured my spunk like a crazed boy.
Three more nights we had those secret assignations and by the time we went back to the school, we were lovers in the real sense. I loved John and I discovered he was crazy about me too. Also, he was not a boy experimenting with his sexuality. He knew exactly what he was; a gay boy who wanted sex with an older partner. And he got it until he left and went on to boarding school elsewhere. God... I did miss him when he was gone! And it wasn't just about sex even though I did miss having my dick up his beautiful bum as often as we could be together. I loved John. (I can taste him now. Yes, before he left he was producing plenty of semen and ne'er a drop did I let spill.)
Ahem! That little distraction has taken me off track. Now where were we? Oh yes, I had just wanked Little Willie Stevenson off, and no doubt he'd done it again himself when he went back to his bed, and I'd also jerked off to release the tensions of having had sex with a boy for the first time in over a year. Then to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day... and maybe new adventures with Little Willie?
Wednesday; 11pm. Hot water bottle filled; Paracetamol and a glass of water on the side table by my chair and a rather large brandy sitting alongside it. 11.30pm; no Little Willie. Midnight; no Little Willie. So, taking my masked torch with me, very quietly I went into the dormitory. Little Willie's bed was 4th one down on the right side of the dorm. He was fast asleep! So I retraced my steps and went back to my room.
What was he up to? He'd said that he would bring me some brandy from the village `tomorrow'. He was joking, of course, about the brandy, but he was serious about the visit. So why had he changed his mind? Occam's razor: the hypothesis that the simplest explanation is usually right. I ran various scenarios through my head and the simplest explanation was that he'd fallen asleep. It's what little boys do when they get tired. So I smiled as I cleared up the massaging paraphernalia and went to bed.
Thursday. I saw Little Willie quite a few times during the day and he gave no hint that anything was amiss. He certainly didn't come to me and apologise for not letting me wank him off (or more?) the previous night, and he had no sign of a limp even when he knew I could see him! That set the detective cogs working in my brain. Why had he dropped the limp?
11pm. I made no preparations for a visit. Just a warm fire and a brandy to relax with. 11.30pm and no Little Willie, so I threw the Occam's razor hypothesis up the chimney and tried to work out what was going on.
Had I been a conquest? It was not unknown for little boys to have dares between themselves. But, somehow, that hypothesis didn't sit well with me. Little Willie and I had shared those grins for too long for them to be inconsequential. Which left me with the idea that Little Willie was testing me to see if I was like other teachers who like little boys? It was not unheard of in private boarding schools for teachers to root little boys out of their beds for sexual soirées. Was he testing me to see if I was a predator? So I came to a conclusion of what I would do. Little Willie would come to me or there would be no more to this affair.
Friday. No Little Willie.
Saturday. 11am. I was in charge of a rugger game between mixed nine and ten year olds. Whites v Blues. I put Little Willie in with the Blues. He had a good game. I had a good game. I spent most of it studying his lithe and athletic little body that I had massaged and had sex with on Tuesday. The hidden power within him was great to see and I had dirty thoughts that he could put that hidden power to good use if ever he became my new John Imubako-Brailsford. I knew what it was like making love with a sex-mad boy. The antics they can get up to because they're so malleable at that age is amazing.
Game over. Whites beat Blues 50-27 and I blew up early because we had a policy of not letting any team lose by more than fifty points so they don't become too disheartened. Little Willie was not best pleased. Little Willie hated losing and his full lips were pouting as he left the field covered in mud from head to foot. Into the showers. I'd been wearing a tracksuit and didn't really need to have a shower, but I decided to because I was intrigued by how Little Willie would react with me.
I lathered myself completely and made sure I was in full view when I washed everything. After I'd poured shampoo over my hair and massaged it into my scalp, I pretended I couldn't see as I washed my body and dick and balls, making sure my movements were sensual ones as I did so. Little Willie – thinking I couldn't see him - was watching me intently, and as he did so, he was secretly massaging his soaped up dick and balls... and his little dick was like a nail. I also noticed that his mouth was half open and he was licking his lips as he watched me stroking my semi-hard dick. Oh yes... Little Willie was really turned on by seeing me naked and stroking myself, even if it was under the pretence that I was bathing. That's when I decided to call it a day and stepped under the shower to wash away the soap and shampoo. Stares and a hard-on. That's what Little Willie gave to me when I was done and turned the taps to cold to dampen my ardour. Occam's razor hypothesis again. My body had turned Little Willie on big style and he hadn't been able to hide his disposition. Then Little Willie did something that almost had me laughing out loud. He'd washed the soap off him and was walking past me on his way out of the showers, and he was holding his quad muscles and limping. So, when he got to me, I asked, "Hurt yourself have you Stevenson?"
He covered his dick with his left hand and said, "Yessir. It's my groin this time."
I winked at him. "See nurse on Monday morning. I'm going to get in trouble for letting you play the complete game. She said you should just play half a game or you might injure yourself."
Little Willie gave me a that grin and walked out of the showers.
11pm. Dressed in a Welsh Rugby shirt and shorts; my hairy legs naked from the hem of the shorts down, the TV was switched off and my room was quiet as I sat in my chair sipping at a brandy. Just one wall light was on to make the place intimate; the fire burned merrily in the grate, and a glass of water and a Paracetamol on the side table by my armchair. The brandy was my second one. The first had gone to my head and lowered my inhibitions. I looked around the room. No expense spared on making schoolmasters feel at home. The divan bed was an expensive one... soft but firm in the right places and covered in a silk eiderdown over the flannelette sheets and woollen blankets. To the left of the divan/bed was my trophy cabinet, filled with cups and other trophies I had won when I was playing rugger. The thick carpet covering the entire floor was a Wilton one... a multitude of various reds and other matching colours. It was definitely a cosy room; a cosy boudoir that was just missing the most important item: a boy.
11.05pm and a gentle tap on the door. My heart did an imaginary leap. I went to the door and opened it. Little Willie was standing there in a clean pair of green flannelette PJ's and holding my hot water bottle. I smiled at him and beckoned a finger that he could enter.
I sat in my chair and Little Willie stood in front of me. He offered the hot water bottle to me. I took it and placed it on the side table. Then I sat back in my chair, picked up the glass of brandy and smiled at Little Willie and said, "Just warming my hands, Stevenson."
Little Willie was staring into my eyes. He had a serious look on his face. I took a quick glance at the rest of him. Something was missing. His little dick was not tenting in his PJ's. Then he said, "Can I sit on your knees Sir?"
I was taken aback! Something was not right, so I held out my hands and he allowed me to pick him up and place him in my lap. Now what?
Part 3 to follow.
Richard Darby... firstname.lastname@example.org